“Photon torpedoes and phasers, full spread!” Captain Glover barked, on the edge of his seat. Sisko had jumped out of his, both feet now rooted onto the deck, his eyes locked on the main viewer.

Above Zubrin colony hung a Borg cube, a patchwork of dark corrugated metals, probably pilfered from hundreds of worlds. A sickly green light illuminated the blocky vessel from within. The cube wasn’t like the gigantic one that had attacked Sector 001 several years ago. It was smaller than the Cuffe, but that didn’t comfort Terrence at all. Size was no determinant of Borg lethality.

“Aye,” Konall said behind him, barely containing his glee. The Klingon had bumped Lt. Dempsey off the tactical station as soon as Glover and Benjamin had sprinted to the bridge. The security officer hadn’t appreciated it, but Terrence had chalked it up to superior officer’s prerogative. Plus he thought Konall’s ferocity might be more useful.

The sore Dempsey had taken up position on the bridge with the rest of the security detachment Terrence had ordered. In addition to demanding that each crewmember be armed for the duration of this mission while on duty, the captain had wanted round the clock security on the bridge and in Engineering.

If the Borg infiltrated their shields in an attempt to abscond him or one of his crew Glover was going to make sure they were going to regret it.

The walls trembled slightly as a deadly fan of energy beams and torpedoes erupted from the Nebula-class ship and tore through the void and crashed against the Borg cube. The barrage lit up the darkness and exposed the verdant shielding around the cube.

“All direct hits,” the Klingon first officer crowed.

“Damage report,” Glover asked.

“Their shields are holding,” Konall chortled in awe, thrilled by the challenge.

“Hit them again,” the captain commanded. He didn’t want to give the scout ship a chance to respond. “With rotating phaser frequencies and altered photon harmonics,” he added. Terrence had read up on the Borg’s amazing, yet damnable ability, to adapt to Starfleet’s energy weapons.

However their adaptive abilities weren’t flawless and if they could stay one step ahead of the machines the Cuffe just might survive. Another fusillade struck the Borg vessel, producing a bright flash that nearly shorted out the main viewer’s receptors.

“Their shields are down!” Konall continued vaunting.

“What?” Terrence blinked, in part from the sudden increased illumination, but also from surprise. He glanced back at the Klingon before looking at Ben. However Sisko’s head was too wrapped into the battle, or more likely his nightmares, for Glover to gauge his opinion. This was going way too easy, and he didn’t like it.

“Target their propulsion system,” Glover ordered next. “I don’t want them slipping through one of those transwarp conduits like at Ohniaka.”

“Are they powering weapons?” Glover asked; a hitch of concern in his voice. Was the other shoe finally about to drop?

“No sir, they are powering their engines,” the Rasiinian asked after a beat.

“Fire now Mr. Konall!” the captain barked. Before the Klingon could comply the Borg ship activated its engines and hurtled toward them. “Evasive maneuvers!” Terrence yelled at the helm. The young Roylan manning the console jumped into action, jerking the ship hard to port.

Terrence could hear the strain in the ship’s struts at the spur of the moment action, the inertial dampers a few seconds behind. Glover had to grip both armrests firmly not to be thrown from his seat. Dempsey and most of his security detachment weren’t so lucky and they were thrown to the floor. Somehow Benjamin remained standing.

There was a horrific shrieking and the ship juddered violently. “The Borg cube has impacted our port side,” Tunepp reported, “There are several micro-punctures in the portside primary hull. Emergency procedures have already been activated.”

“Go ahead Mr. Tunepp,” Glover said tightly, dreading what the man was going to say next. He just hoped that the Borg ship hadn’t damaged their engines.

“We are receiving messages from Zubrin colony,” the Rasiinian continued. “The Borg laid waste to a major metropolitan area before our arrival. There are a significant number of casualties. They are requesting assistance.”

“Captain Glover,” Benjamin now turned to him, a desperate plea in his eyes. He wanted that scout ship; he needed it to exorcise his ghosts. Terrence could also feel the weight of his crews’ eyes on him, and sensed that they were split over whether to assist the Zubrin colonists or pursue the Borg vessel.

So this is what being a captain really is all about, he sardonically thought.
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